


Not Letting Go

by Zomb13Cat



Series: My Tumblr drabbles [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zomb13Cat/pseuds/Zomb13Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Samulet fix-it drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written a few days before the finale of s08 for my friend Sima (filthyJanuary over at tumblr) who was really upset about the misuse of the Samulet.

“Just get some sleep, alright, Sam.” Dean ushers his younger brother into his bedroom. It’s not the safest room in the place, but it’s the one he feels he can best protect Sam, even when he’s not around; which’s been happening a lot less often as of late. After the first and second trials and all the toll they’ve taken on Sam both mentally and physically, Dean just can’t find it in himself to stay away from him. It feels like Sam’s slipping through his fingers, fading away, and that’s just a thought that Dean can’t bare because he just got Sam back after a year -that felt like an eternity- of never knowing if he was going to see him again.

  
“I’ve got something for you-” Sam’s sways slightly and closes his eyes tightly in one of his attempts to subdue another fit of vertigo. Dean reaches out and steadies him, brings them down to sit on the bed, and doesn’t let go even when the worst of it has passed. There’s something clasped tightly in Sam’s hand, but right now Dean’s curiosity is eclipsed by his concern so he couldn’t really care less. “I just couldn’t leave it there-” Sam turns to finally face him; eyes bloodshot and watery, face pallid and thin; and takes Dean’s breath away like a punch to the gut.

  
He keeps jabbering on and on about something but Dean’s not really listening –to busy canvasing every inch of Sam in worry- so it’s not until Sam places something into his open hand that it dawns on him. Blunt points of skin-warm metal dig into his palm as he clenches it tightly closed, the feeling of it causing his throat to knot in against itself. “-wore it every day you were gone. Used to think I could still smell your skin on the leather cord.” And that’s really all the confirmation Dean’ll ever need.

“Sammy, I-” Words fail him. Not that he was ever any good with them to begin with, Sam’s always been the brains of the outfit after all. But how can he put into words what the amulet really meant; that it was Sam, that it was them; and that there wasn’t a single day -a single minute- he didn’t regret throwing it away. He can’t -not with words- but he can show him.

After years Dean drapes the necklace back on; the leather pulls lightly at the back of his neck and the horned bronze idol slides comfortably in place; it feels like regaining a missing extremity. Sam stops talking -finally- and smiles softly, it looks like a huge weight’s been lifted off of him. And sure it’s a little sappy, but Dean has to kiss him.  
Sam’s skin is cold and damp as Dean presses him down on the bed, works his way up his jaw and down his neck, and all Dean wants to do is warm him up, make it all better, reassure him that they are -and always will be- together. He peels Sam out of his gray t-shirt and slowly pulls down his sweats, captivated by the way the fabric drags against Sam’s skin, the way his cock springs free and slaps against his belly leaving slick, damp trails in its wake.

Dean shudders and tries to ignore the aching throb of his own cock, when he feels Sam’s fingers tugging at the waistband of his boxer-brief. It’s not that he doesn’t want it -he’d kill for it- but right now is all about Sam, so he pulls his brother’s hands away by the wrists and firmly pins them up on either side of his head. He leans over him and stares intently, the metal of the amulet grazes over Sam’s collar bone and throat. Sam looks confused until Dean smirks, he rolls his eyes but otherwise doesn’t make any attempt to stop him, the brief moment of non-verbal communication enough to clue him in on what Dean has planned.

  
He kisses and bites his way down Sam’s chest and torso; licks around his navel and suck a pleasant little bruise over his hipbones, high enough that it’ll just stick out over the waistband of his jeans. He bites at Sam’s thigh, runs his tongue over all the little sensitive spots he knows Sam has, purposefully ignoring the places Sam wants him at.  
“Fuck, Dean” Sam groans and Dean has to just swallow up the words. He fits himself over Sam and kisses him. Bites at his lips and sucks on his tongue as he grinds their bodies together. The leather cord digs at the back of his neck, but he’s so on edge that he doesn’t really care why or how. Sam pants against his mouth and jerks underneath him, and it takes all of Dean’s strength of will not to come at the sight and sound alone or the thick, wet heat seeping through the cotton of his boxers. Sam’s eyes flicker open, all lust-blown and ethereal, and that’s what pulls him over the edge. Has Dean coming like a steam engine -wondering when he became a Stephanie Meyer’s character- the leather cord biting painfully into his skin.

  
Dean steadies his breath, tries to redistribute his weight over his younger brother, and that’s when he notices it. One of Sam’s hands intertwined with one of his over the amulet, the black cord leaving pale pressure marks on both of their skins. Sam’s grip falters unsure, so Dean tightens his. Dean knows why Sam gave back the amulet after all these years, knows that it’s his subtle way of saying goodbye. But Sam’s not going anywhere, because Dean’s not letting go.


End file.
